


vivir sin ellos, ya no podría

by slimeys



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: College AU, M/M, Pining, accidentally matching with a stranger au, if you're into that, matching clothes, platonic soulmates matt and shiro, shiro the elementary school teacher bc I Can, technically.....barely, the world's briefest mention of latinx keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 11:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12681273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slimeys/pseuds/slimeys
Summary: (I can't live without them)Shiro tries to occupy himself in his surroundings, taking in the cloudy sky, the clanking of the train, the cute guy sitting across from him wearing the exact same outfit.He's, like, really cute. Shiro doesn’t think he’s seen him before, because if he did, he’d definitely remember that bronze skin and those long legs. His cap is backwards, pulling dark waves off his forehead and revealing the cutest widow’s peak on this side of Snowqualmie. This is too much. Even as he looks down at his phone with a light smile—is he looking at a meme? Does he like memes? Shiro really hopes so—he exudes charisma and charm. Shiro is starting to think that it isn’t the matching clothes that drew his attention.





	vivir sin ellos, ya no podría

**Author's Note:**

> breathe if u love shance 
> 
> there's a reference to the "you was my BABY, my fuckin CINNAMON APPLE" vine in here 
> 
> the title is from a javier solis song, "asi" and the [rancheras I mention somewhere are his specifically](https://open.spotify.com/album/5A0quQYOcbEjHvokeGUBWS)
> 
> also not that this really matters but look at the [jordan 7s](https://www.flightclub.com/air-jordans/air-jordan-7) and tell me the silhouette isn't similar to lance's canon shoes
> 
> !! if you're reading this in 2019, this used to be on my other account (the one replying to all the comments). im trying to become less foolish, which is why i moved the story over !!

Shiro really wishes he brought his book. The main characters are _this_ close to professing their undying love for each other and instead of finding out whether or not they escape the rapidly-flooding cave, he gets to sit on the train and wait. The anticipation is killing him. So, he tries to occupy himself in his surroundings, taking in the cloudy sky, the clanking of the train, the cute guy sitting across from him wearing the exact same outfit.

 

Like, exactly the same. It's nothing special: gray sweatshirt, light-wash ripped jeans, black cap. Even their Nikes match; white, but Shiro is biased to the Jordan 4s, while this stranger dons the 7s. Call him a shoe snob, but he eyes the small scuff on the left one. It happens. Whoever this guy is, he’s got good taste.

 

And like, _really cute._ Shiro doesn’t think he’s seen him before, because if he did, he’d definitely remember that bronze skin and those long legs. His cap is backwards, pulling dark waves off his forehead and revealing the cutest widow’s peak on this side of Snowqualmie. This is too much. Even as he looks down at his phone with a light smile—is he looking at a meme? Does he like memes? Shiro really hopes so—he exudes charisma and charm. Shiro is starting to think that it isn’t the matching clothes that drew his attention.

 

There’s a soft _ding_ that comes from his phone, probably a new message. His smile widens to reveal _dimples,_ of all things; Shiro’s heart squeezes in his chest. He tightens his grip on the strap dangling from the ceiling—the only thing holding him up at this point, unfortunately, because his knees are starting to get weak. He resents all of Matt’s accusations of him being a romantic right now, considering Shiro’s increasingly obscene thoughts involving him and this gorgeous guy holding mitten-covered hands, sharing breakfast in bed, and owning cute dogs together, are proving him right. In the last two minutes, he’s already written two Nicholas Sparks books and directed a Ryan Gosling romance movie; if someone upstairs ever developed a vendetta against him and allowed Matt to read his mind, Shiro would never live this down.

 

Would he be a good kisser? Shiro’s kissed a lot of people—okay, maybe not a _lot_ —but he’s more than decent. So he wonders about this stranger. He looks at that broad mouth with the cupid’s bow lips, lips that look soft. Lips that would fit well against Shiro’s own.

 

 _Ease up, space cadet!_ The train gives a lurch that brings Shiro back to Earth. It’s relatively quiet for this time of day, especially for the weekend. Normally there’d be a few couples going out, or some college kids buried in their textbooks, but the only student here seems to be Shiro’s Mystery Match. He’s only just noticing the black backpack next to him with the Garrison University logo, and _SWIMMING_ stitched under it. So he swims. It makes sense, given the wide slope of his shoulders and lean-cut frame; what Shiro wouldn’t give to see him in some jammers. He would be more than happy to spend his Sunday at the pool if it was with him.

 

The only reason Shiro is out at all, instead spending his Sunday watching Ghibli movies and eating mac and cheese, is because Matt nearly combusted when Shiro had told him that was the plan.

 

_“That has the appeal of wet bread. You’re turning 25! That’s No Way to spend your 25th birthday, my dude.”_

 

_The way Shiro sees it, he’s only 6. Phone in one hand, he drags the other down his face. “Look, Matt, it’s really not a big deal. There’s no reason to do anything over the top—”_

 

_“Shiro, bro, babe, my man, as your best friend and platonic soulmate—”_

 

_“We are not soulmates.”_

 

 _“—It is my job, my_ civic duty, _” Matt presses on, and while Shiro can’t actually see it he knows Matt is steepling his fingers. “To make sure every special event in your life is dope enough to have you ascending. Just let me do this, man.”_

 

At his concession, Matt had called him an invaluable friend and soulmate, but Shiro thinks a better-suited word would be pushover. It’s not a leap year and therefore not his actual birthday, so how he spends it doesn’t even really matter, but Matt sounded really determined to give him a good time. He’s just glad tomorrow is a furlough day for teachers; he’ll have time to recover from whatever spectacle he and Katie and Keith have put on. He’s expecting alcohol, a lot, and if last year was any indication, possibly a bounce house.

 

Something that Shiro could have never expected, however, is encountering his possible non-platonic soulmate on the way to said spectacle. Seriously, he’s had the soft strumming guitars and lilting voices typical of the rancheras Keith and his stepdad would play after dinner looping in his head ever since he laid eyes on this stranger. He doesn’t know this guy’s name, but he knows they’re meant to be. There’s _something_ about him that makes Shiro’s palms sweat, his mouth dry, his chest bloom warmth and damn it all if he doesn’t find out what. He has a plan.

 

First, he’ll make a comment. Something witty and cute like, “Hey, who’s your stylist? They must be pretty good.” Then, the stranger will look up, curious as to who said that before realizing this amazing coincidence. Shiro will wink at him and make another joke that’ll have Mystery Match smiling wide, showing off those cute dimples again and making his impossibly deep blue eyes bright. Finally, he’ll reach his stop, and get off the train and he will have a brand new contact in his phone and plans for next weekend that won’t involve Ghibli movies, mac and cheese, or Matt’s party-planning skills, no problem.

 

_“Now arriving at Lionel Station. Once again, Lionel Station.”_

 

Mystery Match stands up then, tapping away on his phone real quick before pocketing it. He slings his backpack over one shoulder and makes his way to the exit.

 

Okay, so one (1) problem. Of course this would happen, _fuck, Shiro_ , he should’ve formulated this plan ages ago and not ten seconds before reaching Mystery Match’s stop—what’s he gonna do now? He couldn’t have known, but regardless fate is punishing his ignorance. This stranger is gonna walk out those doors and out of Shiro’s life, possibly forever. There’s enough people and enough trains and enough chances for him to never ever see this guy again. Exactly how many chances he doesn’t know, but he does know that he needs to do something, and fast.

 

As luck (something Shiro has very little of) would have it, he doesn’t need to do a damn thing, because someone else does it for him. The exit is quickly beginning to crowd, and in the bustle someone bumps into Mystery Match hard enough to have him stumbling right into Shiro’s chest. Instinctively, Shiro lets go of the ceiling strap to grab him by the shoulders and hold him steady. He appreciates the rounded muscle underneath his hands, apparent even through the thickness of a sweatshirt.

 

“Ah, jeez dude, I’m really sorry… about…” Mystery Match’s voice, all warm cinnamon and sweet apples, trails off once he starts taking in Shiro’s ripped jeans, his gray sweatshirt, his black cap with a stitched-on crescent moon. He laughs. “Nice outfit.”

 

 _Now’s your chance!_ Smiling, Shiro says, “Thanks, but I’d definitely say it looks much nicer on you.”

 

A blush starts up on his cheekbones, bleeding across the bridge of his nose like watercolor. “H-hey! I… I don’t know about _that._ ” He’s so sheepish, with his left hand rubbing the back of his neck and the other twisting at a black stud in his ear—fuck, even _those_ match. He turns his head to the side, but his eyes quickly return to give Shiro another head-to-toe.

 

Now it’s Shiro’s turn to start turning redder than Keith’s favorite jacket. His mind feels like it’s going in circles trying to find an acceptable response, but all it does is remind him that, uh, dude, he’s still grabbing Mystery Match by the shoulders. He very tentatively lets go, like this beautiful man will disappear into dust if he goes too fast.

 

“Um. Sorry.” Shiro’s hands hang in the air awkwardly.

 

_“Last call for Lionel Station. Departure is in one minute.”_

 

Mystery Match jerks at that, whipping out his phone to check the time.

 

“Fuck! I’m gonna be late!”

 

He’s by the doors faster than Shiro can really comprehend, and flashes Shiro a smile that is too warm, too sunny, to belong in February. “Hey, sorry again! Have a nice rest of your day, handsome,” he says, before walking out onto the platform.

 

Shiro’s not risking it. He sends Matt a text, he’s gonna be a little late.

 

_“Now departing.”_

 

Thank god for CrossFit, because Shiro just barely rolls through the doors as they slam shut with finality. The train pulls out of the station with a roar, and he desperately looks around for someone toting a backpack in a black cap and gray sweatshirt.

 

“Hey, wait!”

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
